


Unparagoned

by orphan_account



Category: Meet the Robinsons (2007)
Genre: Artist!Reader, But I'm actually not, F/M, I couldn't resist sorry, It's only referanced a little, Mostly from You, Reader-Canon Character relationships, Reader-Insert, Social Anxiety!Reader, lots of cussing, vague drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:04:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Title: In which I don't know what to name things.</p><p>You are an artist with social anxiety and have the feels for the youngest Robinson, and he wants you to meet his family for dinner, but you're a nervous Nelly that thinks too much and you have to dork around with your feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just rewatched this movie and got thrown back into the fandom. Enjoy.

No One's POV:

 

When Wilbur had asked you to meet his family, he was met with a quick (and loud) “Jack shit, I will!” To be honest though he wasn’t really surprised. The only reason you two had started talking was because you had gotten paired up to work on an English project together, and even then it took time for him to break the barriers between you two. He made you nervous at first (who didn’t, really) but his easy going social butterfly personality made it a little easier to interact with.

You’d always had trouble talking to anyone, really. You never quite understood the concept of introducing yourself to people, and everyday things such as small talk always made you nervous at the thought of it. The fact he’d wanted you to meet his family after a month of talking and hanging out around town meant he was serious in wanting to be your friend, and that made you so happy and anxious at the same time it was so unnerving.

You walk briskly through the hall of school, with Wilbur desperately pushing people aside trying to keep up. “Come on, it’s literally _one dinner_ with my family! You could so get through this!” he says clasping a warm hand on your shoulder. You grumble a little as you feverishly open your locker, and shrug his hand off. You are keenly aware of him leaning to a neighboring one as he watches you. You know you’re being a bit childish, but you really can’t help being nervous. So many things could go wrong! And what if they don’t _like_ you…? You toss the thought away along with your book as you slam both in your locker, nervousness still prickling your brain uncomfortably.

He grabs your shoulder again as you turn to leave, successfully stopping you as he turns you to meet his eyes. You grimace even deeper at his concerned frown on his face. “Come on, (F/n), what’s really going on? Your grump never shows this much!” You give a deadpan look, but its effect is ruined by the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. He pokes your cheek in an attempt to make you lighten up a bit, but you just sigh tiredly as you swat his hand away.

“I’m just nervous is all,” you begin. “I mean, you know how I am around people, especially large amounts of people. It’s just… what if they don’t _like_ me,” you say awkwardly rubbing your arm as you look away, the floor suddenly claiming your eyes in priority. “What if they don’t want us to hang out anymore? What if _I_ don’t like _them_? That would totally put tension on our relationship, and then we’d stop hanging out, and then I’d go back to being alone, and then I’d get artblock, and then I’d _die alone_ with no one around,” you say quickly shifting on your feet. You glance at his face, and he looks somewhere caught between wanting to laugh at you, and pity of you.

He chuckles breathlessly. “Wow, that escalated really quickly,” he says. He laughs even louder when you punch him in the arm. “But seriously,” he says as you stroll out of the building, “I think you’re just overreacting. They’re basically clones of me, so I’m sure they’ll like you just as much as I do,” he says shoving you a little with his shoulder. Blushing, you swat at him.

“I don’t know…”

“Come on. Please? My mom’s been driving me up the wall, asking when she can meet you, not to mention I want you to meet them!” he protests anxiously as you face him.

You bite your lip, and fidget before stomping your foot in defeat. “One night,” you say as his eyes light up and he weaves his fingers together in resemblance of prayer. “But,” you say and he freezes. “If something bad happens and I fuck up, I reserve the right to save face and leave, got it?” With that his face relights and he hugs you close.

“OH, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” he says joyously jumping a bit in excitement. He jumps out of the embrace and practically skips down the school steps to the sidewalk, to wait for that pizza guy relative that always picked him up. “I’ll pick you up around four tomorrow!”

You roll your eyes walking down the sidewalk to the bubble-transport stop. “Yeah, whatever, Robinson”.

You’ve got a good feeling about tomorrow.


	2. The Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow I whipped this up quick. Just the dinner and an hour before. >w

Your POV:

You take a deep breath as you step off the bronze robot’s, whose name you learned was Carl, (rather uncreative, in your opinion) shoulders, taking Wilbur’s assisting hand. You adjust your shoulder bag, making sure your sketchpad doesn’t fall out. Having a robot show up in your 7th floor apartment was a little startling, especially when Wilbur called your name. You always did wonder how he got up to your floor without using the fire escape. You step down onto the verdant grass, and you let go to look at the house.

“So, what’daya think?” you hear Wilbur say next to you.

You blink. “It… sure is something,” you say uncertainty gnawing at your throat. And it is. The grass is mowed evenly, there are topiaries of various animals strewn in a spontaneous fashion all across the yard, and _holy fuck that house is big_. You knew Wilbur’s dad was loaded, but this was fucking _ridiculous_. The house was so tall and large it could probably be considered an apartment building. The building itself was a clean white with brass accents and roofing with a large red seal bearing a capital ‘R’ above the doorframe. A slightly smaller ‘R’ was a little higher up on the building near the roof.

Carl looks at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” he asks timidly, metal brows knit together.

You nod, feeling bile rise in your throat. Your tongue feels too thick for your mouth. “Yeah. It’s just a little…” you pause searching for the right word, trying not to be offensive. “Intimidating?”

Wilbur snorts next to you. “Don’t worry you’ll be fiiiiine!” he says sleekly. “They’ll love you!”

“You don’t know that,” you mumble as he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the door, and knocks.

“Sure I do. Carl, run the numbers will you?” he says over his shoulder. Carl rolls his eyes and taps some buttons on his stomach, as a reel of paper with dots on it comes out. He pulls it off with a rip and reads it. He smiles encouragingly and says, “Well, the good news is that there’s a, 87.62% chance they’ll like you a lot!”

You shift a bit, feeling a bit relieved that there’s such a big chance of them liking you. “What’s the bad news then?”

He nervously grins. “There’s a-” he begins, but is cut off by a hand over the mouth from Wilbur as he cuts in.

“That doesn’t matter! We don’t need to hear the bad news! I’m a glass half full kind of guy anyway!” he interjects as the door opens, revealing a large octopus.

The only thing you could think as you yelped in surprise is, _‘is this a fucking hentai?’_

Wilbur grabs your waist and pulls you into a side hug. “Don’t worry, (F/n). This is Lefty, our butler! Lefty, this is (F/n), that friend I was telling you about!” he explains. The violet octopus with the strangely slit eye makes a growly squishing noise of acknowledgment, and holds out a tentacle for you to (presumably) shake.

Not wanting to seem rude in front of a sentient (and possibly of higher intelligence) cephalopod, you grab the appendage delicately, not wanting to squeeze too hard as you shake it. “Nice to meet you…?” you say uncertainly to him. He makes an enthusiastic noise and he seems to grin, his eye crinkling at the edges as he wiggles aside to let you in, opening the door.

The three of you walk in, you behind both of them, not wanting to impose. Turning to the sound of the door closing you begin to reflexively say, ‘thank you’ before realizing that Lefty had disappeared without so much as a squishing noise. Confunded, you turn to Wilbur, as he takes off his jacket, hanging it on a wall hook. “Where’d he…?”

He shrugs. “No one knows”. You wait for further explanation, but it seems you won’t get one.

“Okay...” you say leniently.

He waves you over, as Carl leaves through a door on the left. “You can leave your shoes on”.

Blinking, you call for him to wait up. You jog over to him as he hits a panel on the wall, making a pipe open in the wall. “Hold onto me,” he says casually despite your startled jump. He reaches over, pulling you tightly to his chest.

You blush nervously, your eyes dilating. “W-what?” you manage to get out, just as the tube sucks both of you into it. You screech loudly, and you reflexively cling to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and his grip on your waist tightens. By the end of the ride, you’re clinging desperately to his torso, your legs hooked over his arms and you’re shaking.

He laughs and disentangles you from him, sitting you on a bed. He grins at you, shoulders still shaking in laughter as he takes your bag off his shoulders, and sets it next to you, leaning closer to your face.

You’re pretty sure your face is pale and the room seems almost too dark, despite how well lit it is. “You wanna do it again?” he purrs quietly.

_“HELL FUCKING NO, YOU BITCHSHITTING FUCKJAMMER!”_ you yowl at him, grabbing whatever was nearest to you and smashing it into his face. Fortunately, (or unfortunately) it was just a pillow in a dark navy pillowcase. You hear muffled laughter through the pillow as he takes it off his face. His grin is more than a little infectious and you smile a little through your rage. Before it diminishes, you growl, “Next time, warn me you assclown”.

He nods, as your look softens. Grumpily you take in the large bedroom. The entirety of it is painted in pale cyan, white accents trailing around. The bed’s comforter is navy and has black sheets. You shift, scooting to the end of the bed, leaning into the wall’s corner as Will takes the other end. You brush your (h/c) hair from your eyes and pull out a sketchpad and some colored pencils case, and you unravel the case, picking out a light blue color stick. He strolls over to a large stereo and grabs a CD off a shelf full to the ceiling. “Alternative good with you?”

Adjusting yourself to hold the pad on your thighs, you reply easily, “You know it, boi”. You see him smirk in response, turning the music up a little more than what might’ve been considered rational, and makes his way back to the bed and sits down. He stretches languidly, successfully taking up most of the bed, and even some of yours, obnoxiously putting his foot in your face. You snort and swat it away, but he pushes it into your face. You both laugh childishly, and you attempt to push the appendage away, but it just ends up even further in your personal space. Having enough of his bullshit, you take a fingernail and scratch the foot gently making him squeal in a very unmanly fashion, and curls in on himself, eyes wide. He then frowns at you, pink creeping into his face. Growling witty banter at each other playfully, you both eventually settle down enough for you to begin your drawing. He’s got a vague smile on his face, and his eyes are closed as he taps his fingers on his knees. He nods his head slightly, one hand on your leg that’s over his.

You softly shade his shirt and the walls of the room in a darker blue than the walls, making his pants and belt a lighter periwinkle. You highlight his skin in pale cream, and darken shadows in umber.

You hardly notice he’s peering at your drawing until he whispers a breathless, “Wow...” in your ear. You startle, but he doesn’t look up, only grabbing your sketchpad. The drawing was nearly done, and you make a small sound of protest, but he ignores it in favor of looking at the coloring of himself. “It looks just like me,” he says in wonder.

You can’t help the impulsive sarcasm, blurting out, “Well it should, it is you”. You wince at the words as soon as they escape your mouth, not meaning them to seem so grumpy, but he luckily takes no mind.

“Can I keep it?”

The question takes you off guard. You rarely show him your work, too caught up in some mistakes made. You only really showed him the ones you got for a grade, or what you’d quickly made up in class as a doodle, not really caring about mistakes made. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt for him to have just this one? You nod, and he grins like he won some amazing prize, and pulls in neatly from the pad of paper. Just then the music lowers to a soft volume, and effeminate voice chirps from the ceiling. “Dinner’s ready Wilbur! You and your friend come down here, I want to meet this young lady I keep hearing about! Hi, dear!”

You stare at the ceiling with confusion slathered across your face. “Coming, Mom! We’ll be down in a sec!” Wilbur calls distractedly, still looking at the picture.

“Alright!” the voice says, before disappearing with a boop. Wilbur shuts the music off, and waves you toward the pipes.

“You coming?” he asks with a smirk.

You scowl at him, putting the sketchpad and your pencils in your bag, setting it onto the bed. “Don’t have a whole lot of choice do I?” You grumble, as you wrap your arms around his waist nervously holding onto him tightly.

“Nope,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pressing a button, you two are once again pulled through and you clutch even tighter to each other. As soon as it stops though, you let go, and peer around. There’s a few people sitting at a table, thankfully not noticing you yet, too immersed in conversation. You feel warm breath on your ear. “Just stay calm; they’ll love you”. You shift nervously as he pulls away, and you stick close to him. “Hey, guys. This is my friend (F/n),” he says pulling attention to you both, and the four people look at you. One is an elderly woman with a melting butter smile, another a fit young man with black hair and a eyebrows similar to Wilbur, a young woman with the same hair and eyes as Wilbur dressed in a swishy dress, and another young man in a strange looking hat and a daredevil outfit. The lady in the swishy dress squeals happily and practically prances up to you.

Immediately, you chill your expression into emotionless. She grins widely at you, saying happily, “Hi, I’m Franny, Wilbur’s mom! You must be (F/n), Wilbur’s told us so much about you!” as she holds out a hand for you to take.

You grab the hand, letting a small false smile fall onto your face to hide the sick feeling in your gut. “Nothing but good things, I should hope,” you say letting your eyes fall onto your friend. He shrugs with an encouraging smile.

Mrs. Franny laughs; it’s a contagious, lilting sound that reminds you of sleigh bells. “Oh please. You’re all he ever talks about!” she says enthusiastically, ignoring Wilbur’s protestful ‘Mom!’. “Gosh, it’s always ‘(F/n) did this, or (F/n) did that, I just couldn’t wait to meet you, he spoke so highly of you,” she says still smiling.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not being slandered. I’d been afraid you’d all hate me by now with all of my crap Will has to put up with,” you say smoothly, allowing an easy grin to your face. “Is there a bathroom I can use? I’ve got blue fingers,” you say pleasantly showing her your blue fingers from coloring. She laughs and points you to a hallway and gives quick directions. You nod your head in acknowledgement before saluting Wilbur from a distance. You trace your way to the bathroom, and hope that your first impression would slide.

 

Wilbur’s POV:

Grinning in (F/n)’s direction, you turn to your mom. “Soooo… What do you think? She’s a sweetie, huh?”

Mom gives you a bemused look, before glancing at the hall and going to the kitchen, gesturing for you to follow. “Seems a bit chilly,” she says delicately.

You scoff. “Pfft. She’s just nervous. You should’ve seen her on the way here, she looked like she was going to throw up, she was so jittery,” you relay to her as you lean on the counter.

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? She seemed pretty calm to me. I wouldn’t have known, otherwise,” she said evenly.

“Oh, yeah. That’s how you know she’s freaking out the most. You don’t really have to worry until she gets quiet like that. She just wants you to get a good impression of her. She’s probably freaking in the bathroom while she washes her hands,” he says. Sure enough, you hear her leave the bathroom, and see the two of you in the kitchen and pussyfoot in.

“I didn’t see ya in the dining room,” she explains. “Didn’t want to impose”. She shuffles her feet and shifts, clutching her arm and looks at the two of you like you’re going to jump her.

You open your mouth to respond, when Mom cuts you off. “It’s alright. You aren’t imposing,” she says gently.

“I know. But it doesn’t feel like that to me”. She pauses, then says apologetically, “Sorry I was so short earlier; I’m just nervous. M’always like that around people”.

Shootin Mom your ‘I-told-you-so’ look, you step up and sling your arms around her shoulders bringing her in; she’s pleasantly tepid beneath you. “Oh, don’t be like that, (N/n), we’re all friends here!”

Giving you a deadpan look, she growls, “Get your stupid arm off me you primitive rodhumper before I cut off you legs and beat you with them”.

Ignoring Mom’s surprised look, you reply reflexively, “You only like me for my body”. You toss your hair dramatically, in a bad representation of women in old soap operas.

(F/n) snorts in amusement and ruffles her hair out of her face. “I so knew it. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

At this, you hear mom laugh. “Yep. And it’s not yours. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way”.

She sighs in faux disappointment. “I freaking knew it. You were slutting it up while I left last week for Comic Con, didn’t you?”

“You’re never there for me,” you wail as you wipe your nonexistent tears from your face.

She sighs and puts her hands on her hips like a tired husband that just got home from a long day at work. “But I’m here now, Will. Isn’t that enough?” she pleads softly, the element ruined only by the twinkle in her (e/c) eyes.

You shake your head sadly. “I wish it was, (F/n). I wish it was”.

You both pause, listening to Mom’s hysterical laughter, before dissolving into chuckles yourselves.

Mom finally manages to stop giggling long enough to get out, “Oh, she’s good, you can definitely keep her”.

“What”.

 

\-----------------Time Skip brought to you by Robinson Co.: Keep Moving Forward!---------------------

 

Still Wilbur’s POV:

Dinner went by swimmingly. (F/n) was getting along with everyone reasonably well, but got along particularly well with Mom and Dad. She came back at everyone with a wicked tongue to each sentence thrown her way, creating giggles among the family. The only part with tension was when Dad and Mom began talking about Dad’s newer invention: the Speed Demon 4.0.

“It just can’t get fast enough!” he sighs, eating his strawberry waffles and bacon in disapointed confusion. “And the aesthetics are terrible, I don’t know what’s going on with me this week”.

Without thinking, you blurt out enthusiastically, “Well, (F/n)’s an artist! She could help!” making her shift uncomfortably as everyone’s attention flew to her.

Dad’s expression lightens and smiles graciously at her. “Is that so? Would you mind helping me out, (F/n)?”

She bites her lip and seems to shrink a little. “Well, I’m sure I could try, Mr. Robinson but I have to warn you: I’m more of a still life or biological artist. Engineering is a whole other can of worms, I don’t know about vehicles much”.

“Please, call me Lewis; I’m Mr. Robinson at work. And don’t sell yourself short, kid. I’m sure you’re great”.

“Oh, I don’t know about that-”

You stand up in your seat at this, yelling, “OBJECTION!” and pointing a finger at her, before grabbing the picture out of your pocket and running it over to Dad. “Look what she just drew in the hour she was here with me!”

She pales almost comedically at this and shrinks even further into her seat, hiding her face in her hands.

Dad’s eyes widen at the picture, as Mom leans over his shoulder and cover her mouth with a hand not holding a slice of bacon. “Oh, wow….” He glances up at you and says. amazed, “(F/n), this is beautiful, can we keep this?”

“R-really?”

We nod spontaneously.

“Um, sure. It’s not the best, but if you like it, then sure”. She says with a shy smile.

Dad shakes his head, and says empathetically, “If this isn’t your best, I’d love to see it”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was using my body language knowledge a bit in this. The reason Wilbur's room doesn't seem well lit, is because your eyes contract when in fear, and you breathe heavily. I just wanted to clarify that bit.


	3. Hipster Babe and Overconfident Noodle Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a duel to the death, and you turned out more hipster than I planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all thought I forgot about this didn't you? I've been stressing over it for weeks/months and finally got down to it. I hope it was worth the wait (plz tell me it was). Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING! INCLUDES REFERANCES AND SPOILERS TO "BACK TO THE FUTURE," WHICH IS A CLASSIC MOVIE THAT EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH AT LEAST ONCE! IT ALSO HAS MICHAEL J. FOX, SO WATCH THE TRILOGY ANYWAY. ALSO, HIPSTER WARNING, YOU ARE VERY VINTAGE LOL.

“This movie doesn’t even make sense”.

 

“Shh!  You’re ruining  it!”

 

“Plutonium wasn’t even used in the making of my dad’s Time Machine.  It was too unstable.  It’s irrelevant”.

 

“Just shut up and enjoy it, you ass”.

 

You thought watching one of your old terrible/great movies with Wilbur would be a good idea.  Naturally, you underestimated about how much he would enjoy it.  Apparently, Wilbur decided he would remind you of how _Back to the Future_ was not, in fact, visual art, and was a piece of incorrect trash that should have stayed in the last century where it would have been appreciated by “less educated weed smokers”.

 

Your natural response was to call him an “uncultured swine,” and to, “stop throwing popcorn at me, you’ll stain my pants you dumbass”.

 

Ah, young love.

 

You were at one of your favorite points in the movie, where Marty got hit by the car and woke up in his young-mother’s room.  You chuckled at Marty’s awkwardness, and seemed to arouse a silent laugh from Wilbur as well.

 

“Hey, is that true?  About the girl-saving-guy-falls-in-love thing, I mean,” he says suddenly, turning to you with a mildly curious look.

 

You made a so-so gesture with your hands, your nervousness spiking.  “Well, sometimes.  It depends on what happens.  It’s pretty easy to fall for someone you have to take care of,” you say hastily, face hot.

 

He leans forward, smirk growing on his face, and he looks at you through narrowed eyes.   _Oh shit, that shouldn’t be hot, fuck, what do I do?_

 

“Um, yeah, because, you know, it’s like, um”.

 

_“Yeeeeees?”_

 

_Oh shit he’s getting closer, PRESS A, YOU IDIOT.  PRESS A!_

“Taaaa-king care of a dog!” _What the fuck…?_

 

To your embarrassment, he laughs loudly.  Your heart crunches like a stepped on cheeto.  If you don’t cover this quick, you’ll throw yourself in a pit of acid.  Thinking quickly, you cover, “Yeah, because, when you find a beat up stray dog and take it home, you get all attached, and then never take it to the pound like you said you would”.

 

He blinks, still chuckling.  “That makes a surprising amount of sense,” he says, considering it.  “Nice cover”.

 

The relief you feel could be compared to suddenly not being bashed between two cars.  Feeling the universe realign itself, you let out a pleased sigh.  “Thank ye,” you say, mounting your hands on your hips.  He begins leaning even further over you, and you just keep backing up nervously, until he has his hands on either side of your head, and he’s looming over you like a psudo yandere anime boy.  Which is hilarious to you for some damn reason, because now that you’ve made the comparison, the only thing going through your mind is _doki doki, Robinson Senpai_ and now you can’t get the image of Wilbur with anime shades out of your head and _fuck, what made you think it was a good idea to put your hands on his hips?  No you moron, don’t hook your fingers in his belt loops to pull him closer, what the hell is wrong with you?!_

You’re so far gone out of your mind, because it’s turned to loud white noise and angry shouts that you can’t understand.

 

You’ve never known what home is until this moment.  You never knew your father, and your mother preferred to pretend you didn’t exist, unless it had to do with keeping food in the house, and refilling her (and yours, if you were sneaky enough) Adderall.  The place you slept in was just four walls and sleeping bag on an air mattress.  This; This was so much better.  It was possibly the most welcoming place in the world: warm, and soft.  There’s no place you’d rather be than right here in your closest- only friend’s arms, with smiling lips pressed soft on yours.  You’ve never been held so close; touches between two have never been common in your life, but now that you have it, are holding it so tightly in your arms, with your fingers knotted in its belt loops, hand fisting its dark hair, you are certain that you never want to leave this place.

 

 _Home_ , your mind supplies helpfully. _You’re home._

You could get used to being at home.  You’d never been there before, and it’s like a field trip with the possibility of staying forever.

 

You’d be much happier if home wasn’t pulling away.

 

Wilbur is looking at you through half-lidded eyes.  He pulls your hand from his hair and places it on your jaw, kissing your thumb softly.  His grin is ridiculous.  Very softly, he whispers to you in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard him use, he says, in the quietest voice you’d ever heard him use, _“Bananas are a good source of potassium”._

 

You really didn’t know what to say to that.

 

“Wilbur, what the fuck?” you yell, pushing him off you, mind catching up with what you did, as he fell onto the floor with a thud, laughing his stupid ass off.

 

You look down, face blank, hiding the mosh-pit of emotions screaming at you.  None of your vintage films ever really told you what to do when your possible boyfriend told you the nutritional value of exotic fruit.  Should you just go along with it, or should you just, you know, yell at him?  Should you whisper back its chemical equation (balanced, of course)?  You wish you’d read those girly magazines those chicks in your class read about how to talk to people, because you really were just one confused donut at this point, warring emotions aside.

 

Deciding on honesty, you replied, “I really, really don’t know how to answer that, so you should just tell me what you were thinking when you said that”.  Your stomach feels like it’s going to explode into badgers, and your head feels heavy and noisy.  You were really reluctant to have a panic attack here, at _Wilbur’s house_ where he _actually lived_ and didn’t have to deal with your insecure bullshit.

 

He grabs the couch and raises his head to meet yours at the edge, wiping tear filled brown eyes, messy hair melding with the dark of the room.  “I don’t know either!  I was just kind of wondering what I should say, I mean, I’ve never been in that position before and- Hey, are you okay?”

 

He sits up, getting onto the couch, pulling you up to look at him.  His hands brush your cheek, looking deeply concerned.  He’d dealt with your attacks before, but this was different.  You were at his house.  “What’s going on?”

 

You heave out, “Panic attack,” before closing your eyes, body shivering as you slowly lose control.  You wanted to scream.  To cry.  To lock yourself up, and bury yourself beneath walls of concrete and earth that would never yield you to the eyes of any living being again.  Your entire body clenches slightly, waves rolling in you.

 

You feel him run a hand through your hair, sharply inhaling.  “Fuck, fuck, I don’t know what to do.  I’m freaking out now!”

 

“Dammit, Will, we can’t both freak out!”

 

“I know, I know!  Shit!  Shiiiiiiiit!”  He flails slightly, before settling on rubbing your back.  “Fuck, mmmmhmmmhmhmhmmmm… Oh!  I know!” he says, grabbing your drawing out of his pocket, handing it to you with a blue pencil, writing something down before showing it to you,

 

(x+4)(x-13)

“Factor it,” he says smugly, and you really don’t have it in you to argue, taking the pencil from him.

 

After a few moments of math with no calculator, you find yourself calmed down.  You finish the problem just so you didn’t feel your effort was wasted.  “x squared minus 9 minus 52,” you determine, handing it back.

 

Grinning proudly, he snatches it back, before assuming asshole stance.  “I knew that would work”.

 

You nod.  “It usually does.  Thanks”.

 

He looks at you closely.  “I didn’t hurt you when I did it, did I?”

 

You feel a python circle your heart.  “No, I just… It just kind of happened”.  You felt hot shame color your cheeks.

 

“Well that’s okay.  You did a lot better than last time,” he says encouragingly, grasping your hand in his.  You try desperately to digest the butterflies in your stomach.  You fail hilariously.  “I do like you, you know”.

 

You look at him.  “I like you too, I guess”.

 

“You guess?” he says, eyebrow raised, grin evident.

 

“Fucking put that back down, Robinson,” you warn.  “And yeah, I don’t know, this is just kinda weird for me.  It’s not like I’ve ever done this before”.

 

“Well me neither.  Want to just… the hell is that term you used… ‘go steady’ or something?  That’s old school, right?  I know you love old school,” he says, and you can just see the mental flailing he’s doing.

 

You snort.  “Yes, Will, you can stop hurting yourself.  It is ‘going steady’ and sure, I would like to date you,” you say, and in a rare act of bravery, you kiss his nose, bumping him slightly.

 

He sputters and reddens in the dark room.  “Damn hipsters are going to kill me some day”.

 

You snap your fingers in mock disappointment.  “Oh, darn.  You got me.  Better go hide the chains and axes.  I had the apron out and everything.  Oh, boo”.

 

You both laugh for a bit, before awkward silence falls over you, before Wilbur breaks it.  “Wanna just make out, this is awkward”.

 

You couldn’t say ‘yes’ fast enough.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending was rushed, I bet you can tell. I really didn't know what to do, I had left at the part where Will is whispering to the Reader, and I just forgot what I wrote, and then this just sort of happened. I have no excuse.


End file.
